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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25584616">Killing Hour</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanidevenom/pseuds/fair-weather-fiend'>fair-weather-fiend (cyanidevenom)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Body Horror, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mild Gore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:15:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,643</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25584616</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanidevenom/pseuds/fair-weather-fiend</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem with Valentin was that he'd been a compulsive liar in high school, which meant that people rarely believed what he had to say. And why should they? He had a reputation for being flaky and his high school superlative had been “most likely to get arrested." So when Valentin shows up on his doorstep five years later and says that he's been turned into a vampire, Stefan's not terribly impressed.</p>
<p>(Or: the obligatory RoBul vampire fic. Featuring vampire politics, high school friends you'd rather forget, and a healthy dose of pining.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bulgaria/Romania (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There’s bodies on all sides, piled next to and on top of each other like a mass grave. Logically, Stefan knows that they’re alive, but he can’t stop staring at their blissed out faces, their gasping mouths and limp bodies. He knows that these creatures are rough when the feed - maybe a few broken spines is just collateral damage to them in the pursuit of their fun. Stefan doesn’t know. He’s surrounded by the pounding drum beats, the mad dancing of these creatures, and, above it all, Valentin, perched between the feet of some saint, glaring down at him like he was the cause of all of this.</span>
</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>
  <span>He should probably start from the beginning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To be entirely honest, Stefan isn’t all that sure about how he got here either. Two months ago, he was a washed up loser spending his nights working as an EMT and his days trying to forget working as an EMT. It wasn’t a bad gig, either. His bills got paid, he got to see his friends often, and last week he’d stolen some needles from the hospital and given himself an eyebrow piercing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Life wasn’t quite good, but it was happening, at least. Valentin changed that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>See, the problem with Stefan was that he’d been a single-minded, overly ambitious bitch in high school, which meant that the majority of his friends were either a) other single-minded, overly ambitious bitches, or b) people that really couldn’t find friends elsewhere. Usually, this worked out pretty well for him. The former group tended to turn out fine - Lida was a high profile journalist now, and Vuk was a professional boxer. They sent him expensive gifts, and when Stefan met up with them, they’d pick up the tab. The latter group, by this point, was usually dead, dying, incarcerated, on trial, or on acid. This was also fairly convenient. They just slipped out of touch, and Stefan didn’t have to deal with them at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On rare occasions, his high school friends would break the mold. For example: someone from group b would become a philosophy professor and get rich talking about Rousseau or Locke all day. Someone from group a would have a stress-induced breakdown and end up playing tiny punk gigs in tiny punk clubs. Someone from group b would show up on his doorstep after half a decade of no contact, asking for help.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The day Valentin showed up at his door had been a pretty good day, for the most part. It was a Saturday, and after Stefan had taken his compulsory 8am-2pm nap, he’d made himself some Italian food. For the first time in a while, he didn’t have any texts from his mom about job opportunities he didn’t have the credentials for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then the doorbell rang.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, Stefan contemplated not answering it. Usually, knocks on his door were from the landlady coming to ask him to change the wallpaper or to please stop smoking on his balcony. Stefan really wasn’t in the mood to deal with that today. But he was an adult, and adulthood meant that after he did the thing he didn’t want to do he could go smoke on the balcony.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He dragged himself over to the door to undo the myriad of latches and locks he’d installed after his neighbor one floor down had drunkenly attempted to break in. He plastered a smile onto his face, and prepared to see Mrs. Fralke standing behind the door. Instead, he was met with the smiling, unaged face of Valentin Lupei.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Stef,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>
  <span>The problem with Valentin was that he’d been a compulsive liar in high school, which meant that people rarely believed anything he had to say. And why should they? He had a twitchy sort of demeanor, a pitchy, nervous laugh, and a habit of fiddling with the rings adorning his fingers. He had a reputation for being flaky and his high school superlative had been “most likely to get arrested.” In the fall, he’d worked at a haunted house and came in with fangs still stuck to his teeth half the time. In the spring, he did magic in the park, correctly guessing people’s birthdays from the wallets he’d subtly teased from their pockets. (He returned them afterwards, so no one knew his secret.) Stefan had been entirely sure that Valentin would have been arrested by now for running internet scams.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Stefan was justified in not believing anything he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a round of disingenuous pleasantries, Stefan excused himself to go make tea. When he returned, Valentin was sitting exactly where he’d left him on the couch, fidgety but still there. That was funny. Five years ago, Valentin would’ve been bouncing around his flat, touching everything and making fun of Stefan for the strawberry flavored condoms that had been hidden away specifically to avoid that scenario.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stefan took a moment to study his least favorite high school friend. Valentin had always looked simultaneously five years younger and five years older than his actual age, but now the effect was exacerbated. He could have been anywhere between 17 and 30, smooth-skinned and youthful. His reddish-brown hair was longer than it had been in high school, hanging loose and choppy around his shoulders. Something between his hair and his skin and his eyes looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>off</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like they were all from different, clashing color palettes. He had dark circles beneath his eyes, so dark they were almost bruises.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stefan handed him his tea. The mug was hot enough that it should’ve burned his fingers, but Valentin didn’t react at all. He gave Stefan a grateful, distracted smile in response. Stefan collapsed into his armchair and spent a few moments looking anywhere but Valentin. “So,” he finally started. “What brought you here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>sounded like the start of a porno, but Valentin just shrugged halfheartedly. “There’s uh...there’s something wrong with me,” he started. “I thought you could help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Stefan thought. Valentin was sick and he needed money or something. He didn’t know why </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>was Valentin’s first thought, but it sure was the wrong one. “Look, man, I really don’t make enough to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t need money,” Valentin interrupted. He had a desperate look in his eyes, and he’d started twisting his ring again - twice left, twice right. “You’ve gotta believe me, I know it sounds crazy-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just spit it out. I’m not going to bite,” Stefan said. Whatever it was, it really looked like it was eating him up inside. Stefan hoped it wasn’t drugs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valentin gave a short, hysterical laugh. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>not the problem,” he muttered. Then, “I think I’m a vampire.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was silence. Valentin stared expectantly at Stefan. Stefan stared disbelievingly at Valentin. Maybe Valentin had joined the rest of his group b cohorts and had finally started going off the deep end. Was this a prank? It had to be a prank. He started to look for cameras.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think you’re a vampire?” he said, as diplomatically as possible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valentin exhaled deeply. “I don’t know,” he said. “I got jumped at work a couple weeks ago, right after the 4th of July. I work the night shift at a morgue, so there’s no one else there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Stefan thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Formaldehyde fumes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He didn’t take anything important, just a couple bags of blood, but he bit me.” The hysterical edge to Valentin’s voice was becoming more and more prominent. He tugged down the collar of his hoodie to expose two small, inflamed wounds right next to each other. There was bruising all around them, and they were placed right above his carotid artery. Sefan was getting a little nervous. “I woke up the next morning on the floor, and I didn’t have to breath.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s it?” Stefan said. That didn’t seem to be the reaction Valentin had been going for; his eyes went a little wide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he said, resigned, and disappeared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Disappeared wasn’t quite the word for it. What really happened was that a Valentin-shaped blur travelled across the room, and suddenly he was perched on Stefan’s kitchen island. Huh. Maybe Stefan had done too many hallucinogenic drugs in college, or something. Valentin zoomed back over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe you just got really good at running,” Stefan said, weakly. Valentin gave him a look and opened his mouth to show off a row of gleaming white fangs. His eyes went red. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” he said. The room felt like it was spinning a bit. Maybe he should sit down. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>sitting down. Whatever was happening suddenly didn’t feel real. Valentin looked kind of concerned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked once, twice, and Valentin was sitting in front of him. The fangs were gone, but his eyes were still red. Stefan spent another minute just staring at him. Valentin didn’t blink </span>
  <em>
    <span>once</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Honestly, he should’ve seen this coming. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>like Valentin to get himself turned into a vampire. “What else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>he asked, even though he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valentin shrugged. “I heal really fast,” he said, quietly. “I don’t have to sleep, and I haven’t eaten anything. I’m way faster, and stronger. It’s like everything’s in HD, too. I can hear your heartbeat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stefan was fairly certain that anyone could hear his heartbeat right now, with how loud it was beating, but that was beside the point. Stefan wasn’t sure how real the vampire thing was, but Valentin had left out a very crucial part of the myth. “And the blood thing?” he asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Valentin said, miserably. “I don’t actively want to drink blood but - I don’t know. People smell really nice, Stef.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He buried his head in his hands. Stefan wanted to do the same. Something in his brain had shut off, almost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I have a couple of minutes to process this?” he asked. Valentin looked up, distraught. Christ. Come to think of it, Stefan had never really seen Valentin express a single human emotion in high school. It made this so much worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I get it,” Valentin said. He stood, in a movement that was almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>graceful. “Just - please don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t care if you think I’m crazy, just let me be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t - I don’t think you’re crazy,” Stefan said. He wasn’t quite sure if he truly believed that yet, but he wasn’t about to let Valentin know. “Just - come back tomorrow, okay? I need a sec to come to terms with the fact that everything I know is a lie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Valentin laughed a little at that, but he still looked so distraught that Stefan reached over and gave him a hug. It felt like the right thing to do. Valentin stiffened up almost too fast, but put his arms around Stefan nonetheless. It felt like hugging a statue, cold and unmoving. After a second, Valentin pulled away, but he looked just a little less tense, so Stefan would count it as a win.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, man,” he said, and took a few careful steps away. Stefan abruptly remembered the blood thing, but Valentin didn’t seem like he was about to lunge for Stefan’s neck. “What time should I come back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Stefan said, like he had plans other than “mental breakdown, 9 am”. “Maybe, like four?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Valentin said, and backed up further towards the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Stefan said, and turned to look for his phone. When he looked up, Valentin was gone, without so much as a sound. Okay. Fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He sighed heavily for good measure and sat heavily on his couch. He had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>of research to do.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm procrastinating on college apps, so here's an update. thank you guys so much for the kudos and nice comments on the last chapter, they really mean a lot!</p><p>i'd also like to apologize in advance for my complete lack of medical knowledge. it REALLY was not a smart decision to make the two main characters both work in medical fields.</p><p>warnings for this chapter: suicide (Valentin pretends to kill himself, and Stefan reads through a newspaper article about it), descriptions of death/corpses, mild gore/blood, self harm (Valentin cuts his arm with a scalpel), and medical equipment. please let me know if i missed anything!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The thing about Valentin Lupei was that he’d been dead for the past two weeks.</p><p>As soon as Valentin had left, Stefan had lunged for his laptop. (Well, almost. He’d spent about five minutes staring into space wondering if he really believed this before deciding that he’d seen weirder.) Putting Valentin’s name into the search bar pulled up a few results - most notably, an article about his death.</p><p>It had been a suicide. Valentin had thrown himself off the top of his nine-story apartment building. There was no evidence of foul play, the police had said, and he’d had no friends or family to question. He’d lived alone, in California - all the way across the country. There’d been a note, apparently. He’d died on impact. Painless. The funeral had been a few days afterward.</p><p>Stefan read through the article with increasing dread, before finally pushing it away, feeling sick. He needed a drink. He’d treated a few people who’d fallen from buildings that high. There was no way that type of impact was survivable. And he’d seen corpses before. Once they’d sat for that long, they were barely recognizable. Valentin hadn’t looked like a corpse. He hadn’t felt like a corpse, either, just cold.</p><p>Once he’d poured himself a half glass of bourbon, he settled for texting Erzsebet for details. She’d dated Valentin for a year in college, and even though they’d ended things on bad terms, Erzsebet liked to keep up with all the latest gossip. Shakily, he typed out a <em>did you hear about Valentin?</em> Keeping it vague was probably the best option - Valentin just seemed like the type of person that things happened to.</p><p>After that he didn’t really want to think about Valentin, so he threw himself headfirst into some errands he’d been putting off for the past few weeks. It was difficult, though, to pretend that his whole entire worldview hadn’t just been turned upside down, and he ended up zoning out so badly at the pharmacy that the woman counting out his antidepressants had asked to take a second look at his ID, just to make sure that the pills had really been prescribed to him. He couldn’t help it. If Valentin really was a vampire - and that was a big if - that meant that the supernatural was real. Stefan could deal with one person coming back from the dead, but the prospect of more things out there made him want to start hyperventilating.</p><p>He was glad that he was scheduled to work that night. Stefan had to help someone deliver a baby, which was a pretty good distraction, if not beautiful to witness or whatever. He stumbled home in the early morning sun, feeling exhausted and more than a little sticky. By the time he got there, he was too tired to do anything more than take off his shoes and collapse into a dead sleep.</p><p>When he woke up, it was to the doorbell ringing incessantly. Stefan groaned and rolled out of bed. His head hurt, and it was already four, apparently. Fuck. He really didn’t want to have to think about life and undeath this close to waking up. Rubbing at his eyes viciously, he found the doorknob.</p><p>“Stop fucking ringing that thing,” he grumbled, as soon as the door was opened. Valentin was on the other side, holding a plastic grocery bag and smiling widely. “It’s fucking loud. What’s in the bag?”</p><p>“Wow, someone’s grumpy!” Valentin said, waltzing on it. <em>Rules out that bit of lore</em>, Stefan thought. “Did you just wake up? It’s like, four, man.”</p><p>He seemed cheerier today, maybe because he’d secured Stefan’s help. Or maybe because Stefan was the most gullible idiot in the whole wide world and Valentin was going to have a super easy time conning him out of everything he owned. Whatever. Stefan turned his attention to Valentin, who had set the grocery bag down on his kitchen table and was pulling books out of a backpack. And leaving dust all over his table, Christ.</p><p>“What’s in the bag?” he asked, with a not inconsiderable amount of suspicion. Stefan couldn’t really imagine what a fucking vampire would need at the grocery store. Candles, maybe, or those little teeth flossy things. Or blood, fuck, was it blood?</p><p>“Apple pie!” Valentin said, brightly. He took a break from making a mess to smile at Stefan. “It’s like a housewarming gift, yeah? I figured it was rude to show up without anything. You-you do still like apple pie, right?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah,” Stefan said, and moved to pick up the little box. They’d made it a little bit of a tradition back in high school, buying an apple pie from the grocery store and demolishing it with plastic spoons every time he’d won an award, which had been a lot back then. Pie-worthy achievements had become fewer and farther between in the years since, and Stefan really couldn’t afford to buy baked goods all that often, anyways. “Thanks, man. You want some?”</p><p>Valentin gave him a look, and he remembered the whole “vampires can’t eat” thing. “Yeah, that’s fair,” he said, and stood there awkwardly for a moment.</p><p>“It’s not poisoned, you know,” Valentin said, not looking up. It should have been a joke, but he actually seemed a little miffed, so Stefan turned around and tucked the damn pie into his refrigerator. The books had been separated into neat little piles on his dining table. He turned some around to read the title.</p><p>“<em>History of Vampirism</em>? What is this?” Stefan went through the pile, disbelief setting in more and more with every one he read. “European Folklore in America? The Spirit of the Devil? Hang on, is that Anne fucking <em>Rice</em> -”</p><p>Valentin snatched the books away. “I grabbed everything that looked helpful!” he said. “I’m just about as clueless as you are. Do you have any better ideas?”</p><p>“Yes, actually!” Stefan started, and went to go grab his laptop, ignoring Valentin’s confused look. He hadn’t signed up to have a goddamned study session, he’d signed up for...not that. Mostly, he wanted answers, and he doubted that they would find them in the <em>vampire</em> section of the library catalogue.</p><p>The article about Valentin’s death was still open, and he turned the laptop around to show him. “You could start by explaining <em>this</em>.”</p><p>“Oh,” Valentin said, sounding a little relieved. “That. It was easy, actually. I work at the morgue, so I got my coworker to help. He said I was dead, sent a cadaver to be buried, and here I am.” He made a little ta-da gesture at himself.</p><p>“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Stefan said, although the fact that Valentin had been able to get away with that made him very concerned about morgue security. “You jumped off a building, right? That should’ve messed you up, and you’re - you’re not. Did it not hurt you, or something?”</p><p>Valentin shook his head. “No, it hurt. I was kind of out of it, after, but I guess I looked pretty dead? They must have checked my vitals. I was all healed up by the time I got to the morgue, though.”</p><p>Stefan pointed at him. “See - see! That helps! That means you don’t have a pulse! Did you check anything else?” Valentin stared at him, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him, and Stefan threw his hands up. “You work in a morgue! Didn’t you have medical supplies on hand?”</p><p>“Yeah, for dead people! I don’t see how taking a bone saw to my head would help!” Valentin said, gesturing wildly. “And we didn’t exactly have a lot of time. How do you think people would react if they saw a corpse walking around?”</p><p>“Whatever,” Stefan said, reaching forward to grab Valentin’s wrist. Valentin let him, albeit with a slightly bemused look. When he pressed his fingers to the veins there, he couldn’t feel a thing - no throb of a heartbeat, no warmth beneath the skin. They stood out in stark relief against the paleness of his skin, bluer than they would be in a person or a corpse. “We can start here, right? We’ll go through your...symptoms?”</p><p>“Way to play doctor,” Valentin muttered. Stefan rolled his eyes. “I already told you everything, man. Not much we can do without medical supplies.”</p><p>“I’m a paramedic,” Stefan said, a little offended, and then immediately backtracked at the look in Valentin’s eyes. “So I’m not just <em>playing</em> at being a doctor, I meant! I’m <em>not </em>sneaking you in to use hospital equipment!”</p><p>***</p><p>Half an hour later, Stefan was covertly leading Valentin through the hospital doors, trying to appear as casual as possible. His shift didn’t start for another two hours, and he was hoping that no one noticed he’d showed up early, with a dead man in tow.</p><p>Of course, things couldn’t be that easy. “Good evening, Mr. Borisov,” someone said as they passed the front desk. Stefan nearly jumped out of skin. Behind the desk, Marisol, their secretary, was waiting, looking at him disapprovingly over the tops of her glasses. “You’ve arrived a little early, I believe.”</p><p>Stefan looked between her and Valentin, feeling a little like a trapped animal. “Go find room 317,” he told Valentin, who was watching him with an evil look in his eyes. “I’ll meet you there.”</p><p>“Sure,” Valentin said, slipping through the crowd of patients almost too easily. Stefan steeled himself to face off with Marisol.</p><p>“Hey, Mari,” he said, aiming for a polite smile and probably landing on sleazy. She didn’t look very impressed. “I remember someone telling me that my work ethic needed improvement, so I figured I’d come in early?”</p><p>She steepled her fingers, steely-eyed and imposing even sitting down. “And I remember that being three years ago,” she said. “We don’t have money to pay you overtime, Stefan. Or for you to do favors for your...friends.” She cast a look towards the hallway that Valentin had gone down.</p><p>“We’re not friends!” he said. Marisol raised an eyebrow, going back to her paperwork. “I mean, we were friends, five years ago. He’s going through a hard time! I’m just helping him out this once. It won’t happen again!”</p><p>“It’d better not,” she said, and waved him away. “Make it quick.”</p><p>“You’re the best, Mari!” he called, making a mental note to buy her flowers for the next holiday that came up. She rolled her eyes.</p><p>Stefan made his way up the stairs with more than a little apprehension. There was a reason he’d sent Valentin to room 317. A few years ago, some of the more morbid nurses had started a running list of rooms that got the most terminally ill patients. Room 317 had won by a landslide, and slowly, they’d stopped scheduling appointments there. It meant that there was no risk of someone being there, but it also gave him a bad feeling in his stomach.</p><p>It wasn’t just that, though. Being around Valentin was...uncomfortable. Not bad, not scary, just weird. He’d changed since high school. They’d walked down to the hospital together, and a part of it was just like old times. Valentin kept getting distracted by shops that looked interesting, and he practically floated through the streets, making ridiculous faces at the dogs and babies they passed. But sometimes he would go silent, and stare around the crowd as though he was lost in the desert. Stefan had had to drag him along by his elbow at one point. Was it the vampirism thing? Or was it just age?</p><p>He knocked on the door before coming in, out of habit, and waiting until Valentin made a “huh?” noise before coming in. Valentin was sitting on the table, kicking his legs impatiently and reading through the brochures about vaccines.</p><p>“Are you vaccinated for tetanus?” Stefan asked as he came in. Valentin looked confused. “You should be, you know, if you’re going to be drinking people’s blood. Don’t know what could be in there.”</p><p>“Ha ha, very funny.” Valentin said, throwing the brochure aside. He turned to watch Stefan bustle around the supplies. “I can see that you’re still afraid of old women.”</p><p>“Shut up,” he muttered. He found a pad of paper tucked into one of the cabinets, and came to sit facing Valentin on the table. “Okay, symptoms, go.”</p><p>“Very professional,” Valentin said, then threw his hands up in surrender when Stefan gave him a look. “Alright, fine! I - uh - well, I don’t have to breath?” Stefan made a <em>go-on</em> gesture. “Like, if I stop breathing, it doesn’t feel bad or anything. It’s just a reflex at this point. And I don’t get hungry for people-food anymore, or tired. I’ve tried sleeping, but it doesn’t happen. I think I ended up, like, meditating for a bit? Which is weird as hell, because I’ve never been able to meditate before in my whole entire life.”</p><p>Stefan wrote down what he could. “What about the healing?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, the healing. Well, I heal super fast now? I broke, like, half my bones when I fell off that building, and it hurt and everything, but two hours later I was walking around fine. And there was no blood. That was weird.”</p><p>“Okay, got it,” Stefan said. Valentin was drumming his fingers nervously against the table. Stefan took pity on him and ignored it. “Can we test it out, the healing?”</p><p>“I guess,” Valentin said, reluctantly. Stefan got up to retrieve a scalpel from the tray he’d brought up earlier. He was trying to appear nonchalant, professional, but the truth was that he was curious as hell. He’d been a paramedic for years, and he’d never seen anyone heal broken bones in two hours. It was <em>interesting</em>, as bad as he felt thinking it.</p><p>He offered Valentin the scalpel. “You wanna do it?” Valentin took it, looking weirdly determined, and then drew it up his arm. His flesh parted like water. Stefan startled a little. The cut was deeper than Stefan would’ve done; he could see red inside of his arm. As promised, though, there was no blood. He leaned in to get a better look, but before he could the skin started to knit itself back together. A few seconds later, the only thing that remained was a thin, white scar, and even that was starting to disappear.</p><p>“Wow,” he breathed. Valentin wordlessly handed him back the scalpel. Stefan dropped it back on the tray, and made his way back over to the table to scribble <em>increased healing time. Test later?</em> hastily on the pad of paper. “Okay, that’s freaky. What else? Is there anything you can do now?”</p><p>Stefan looked up, only to find that Valentin had wrapped his arms around himself and was looking at the paper with an indiscernible expression. Shit, was he offended. Stefan was on the verge of saying something, maybe an apology, when Valentin started talking again.</p><p>“I’m faster now,” he started. “You saw it. I barely even have to think about it. I’m stronger, too. That’s all, for now.”</p><p>“And what about the blood thing?” Stefan asked. “Have you tried it yet?” He met Valentin’s eyes, just for a second, before Valentin looked away.</p><p>“I haven’t. I want to, so bad, but - I can’t,” he said. sounding defeated.</p><p>“Why not?” Stefan asked. The mood in the room had gotten way too heavy for his liking, so he stood up to go rattle around the medical instruments again. He could see where the moral dilemma came in, but Stefan really wasn’t one for philosophy. People drank animal blood, right? And people ate other people, sometimes, and if Stefan hadn’t spent two hours in college learning about prion disease he wouldn’t have been too opposed to trying it. Other than the health risks, he couldn’t see why blood drinking was any different from consensual cannibalism. He figured that Valentin didn’t really want to hear all that, though, so instead he said, “Didn’t you get dared to drink someone’s blood once at that party? Not so different.”</p><p>“Yes, it is,” Valentin said, though he didn’t sound too sure about it. “And how do you remember that? That was ages ago.”</p><p>“‘Cause it was fucking nasty,” Stefan said. He returned to the table with a stethoscope and a blood kit. He couldn’t figure out how to test if Valentin’s hearing had changed, since the machine only used tones regular human people could hear, and the blood pressure test could wait until after he figured out if Valentin even had blood. “You want to take a couple deep breaths in for me? I want to know what’s going on with your lungs.”</p><p>Valentin complied, and Stefan held the stethoscope to his back. It sounded weird, even factoring in that Valentin was taking nervous, shallow breaths. Stefan could only compare it to hearing the air rattle around inside a pneumonia patient’s lungs, like they were filled with fluid. He decided not to mention it, and stood up straight to give Valentin his best doctor smile. “Uh, cool. There’s air in there?” Valentin didn’t look impressed with his diagnosis. He decided to abandon the stethoscope.</p><p>“So you don’t have a pulse?” he asked, reaching for Valentin’s wrist again. He pressed his fingers there, like before, and again he couldn’t feel anything.</p><p>“I don’t think my heart’s even beating anymore,” Valentin said, faux-casual. He was going quiet again, like this wasn’t the coolest thing that had ever happened to Stefan. Stefan raised both his eyebrows at him. “I mean, there’s no blood anywhere, right? So why would it still be beating?”</p><p>“Let me see,” Stefan said, reaching forward to press his hand against Valentin’s sternum. The skin there was cold, too, hard like stone. There was no heartbeat there. “Huh,” he said, and pressed his ear to Valentin’s chest. He couldn’t hear anything there, either. It was weird, and reminded him way too much of nights in the ambulance, trying to save corpses that were long beyond help. “That’s weird.”</p><p>“Uh-” Valentin said, sounding choked. Stefan looked up to find Valentin staring right back at him. Belatedly, he realized what he was doing, and busied himself with pretending to write something so he could hide his face going red. Damn. He really needed to get out more.</p><p>“I’m going to take your blood now,” he announced, a little too loud, before remembering that Valentin didn’t bleed when he was cut, apparently. He stared at the instruments on the table. He’d thrown a syringe there as a precaution, but now it seemed like he was going to have to use it. “I hope you know that I’m really going against medical safety guidelines here.”</p><p>“Like everything else has been so safe,” Valentin scoffed, offering his arm a little reluctantly. His veins were easily visible all the way up his arm, and Stefan aimed for one clumsily. He hadn’t really done this since medical school, and he’d been bad at it then, too. Lucky for him, apparently some higher power was on his side that day, because he hit the vein.</p><p>“Oh, fuck yeah,” he muttered, as blood filled the syringe. Then, he realized that something was off.</p><p>Valentin’s blood was fucking <em>blue</em>.</p><p>“Oh, wow,” he said, mildly. “That’s new.”</p><p>“Is it?” Valentin asked tersely. They both watched as the syringe filled up dark blue. It had the same consistency as regular blood, even. It was just...blue. Stefan decided to ignore the potential implications of that for now, and spent a few minutes performing a decidedly unsanitary maneuver to get the blood into the capillary tube.</p><p>“Okay,” he said, standing up. “That’s that, I guess. I’ll get it tested later.”</p><p>“Sure,” Valentin said, sounding detached. “Anything else you wanted to test? Let’s do it now.”</p><p>Stefan still wanted to see Valentin’s reflexes in action, and see if any of his other senses had changed, but Valentin didn’t exactly seem like he could take any more revelations today. He had tucked one of his knees to his chest, and was watching Stefan warily, like <em>Stefan</em> was about to leap at him and suck his blood or something. “I’d love to, but my shift starts in a little bit, and I’m really not trying to get fired for medical malpractice.”</p><p>His shift didn’t start for another hour and a half, but he kept that to himself. Valentin muttered, “yeah, okay,” and Stefan turned around to start cleaning up. The whole situation was weird, and he’d decided that the easiest option was to pretend that his kind of stuff happened everyday. No big deal. If this all turned out to be a dream, or a prank, or something, he’d be fine. If it was real, then cool and composed was the best way to approach the problem.</p><p>Valentin, where he sat behind Stefan, was oddly quiet. The Valentin he knew would have filled an uncomfortable silence with mindless chatter about something or the other. He half expected Valentin to start razzing him for his awful bedside manner, or the fact that he’d forgotten to put on gloves, but he stayed silent. Stefan turned to look at him. He’d tucked his jacket back around himself tightly, and he was staring straight at the bit of blue blood sitting on the table. Silent and still like that, he seemed almost like a statue, carved out of marble.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>once again, apologies if 3500 words of medical stuff is only interesting to me. vampire politics soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content warnings: suicide mention, gun mention</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Midway through his shift the next day, Stefan got a text back from Erzsebet. It said: </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah I was at the funeral.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>During a quiet moment in the ambulance, Stefan sent back: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why didn’t I get an invite? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He knew it was childish, but he was a little miffed that Erzsebet had been invited and not him. They didn’t even get along, she and Valentin. Last time he’d been in a room with them at the same time, Valentin had said something about Erzsebet’s parents getting a divorce because her dad was sleeping with his secretary, and she’d hit him hard enough that he had to get his nose reset.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was probably for the best, anyways. Stefan couldn’t imagine himself going. Seeing Valentin still in his coffin, cold and very much dead...not his idea of fun. He already had his own hangups about mortality, and he was not keen to face them just yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After his shift, he sat on his balcony with a cigarette and a slice of Valentin’s apple pie, watching people walk by on their way to work. He knew it was creepy, but he was high up enough that he was hidden from the street. Besides, it wasn’t like he was jerking off or taking candids or something. Mostly, he just sat there, staring morosely at passersby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t that he hated his job. Working the night shift just got lonely, sometimes. Stefan had tried dating a little, after college, but his schedule meant that it rarely worked out. At least, he chose to believe that it was his schedule. The alternative was that it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and, well, Stefan may have been awful with girls but he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>great </span>
  </em>
  <span>with denial. Whatever it was, his job meant that he had a hard time keeping up a normal life, which was really starting to suck at 23.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erzsebet texted him back at some point, a simple </span>
  <em>
    <span>meet me at the cafe at 12</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Stefan wanted to comment on her assuming that he didn’t have anything to do, but she was right, so he just told her okay and went to go make some coffee.</span>
</p><p>***</p><p>
  <span>Erzsebet was already at the cafe when he got there, nursing some pinkish slush and looking stylish and professional. She didn’t respond when he waved at her, even though she was staring directly at him. Stefan rolled his eyes and went to go order. The cafe they frequented was expensive, like everything else Erzsebet liked, so he took a quick scan of the menu and ordered the cheapest thing he could see, which was still, like, five bucks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stefan had been waiting for no more than thirty seconds when he felt someone’s eyes on his back. He did a slow turn, faux-casual, and his eyes landed on a woman sitting on the other side of the room. She looked vaguely middle-aged, like a magazine photo that had been touched up a little. Her dark hair was styled in an impeccable bob, and she was dressed like she’d just walked out of a courtroom. She was staring daggers at him. Stefan looked around, just to check that she was staring at </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, then down at himself. Was it the tattoos? When he checked again, she was typing on her laptop, calm as anything. Weird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erzsebet was </span>
  <em>
    <span>also </span>
  </em>
  <span>glaring daggers at him, which was confusing. She let him set his coffee down, and then she pounced, grabbing the front of shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span> with you?” she hissed, shaking him. Stefan stared. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why didn’t I get an invite? </span>
  </em>
  <span>It wasn’t a goddamn party, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean it like that!” he insisted. That had sounded pretty bad, now that he thought about it, and he felt his cheeks go hot. “I just...it hasn’t set in yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erzsebet shook him one last time for good measure, but she let him go and sat back down. “You’re lucky I’m forgiving. I cannot believe you asked me why you didn’t get invited to my ex-boyfriend’s funeral.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re friends, too,” Stefan said, and then put his hands up when she narrowed his eyes. “Fine, Jesus! I’m sorry. Did you make me come here just to yell at me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little,” she admitted, crossing her legs. “But also because I haven’t seen you in forever, Stef. You know you could call once in a while?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been busy,” he muttered. Erzsebet looked like she was going to go on one of her </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’ve been busy? I’ll fucking show you busy…</span>
  </em>
  <span> rants, so he lied, “I’ve been going through some, you known, stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was at least kind of true. Dealing with a potentially-vampired Valentin could be stuff. Not being able to pay his heating bill could be stuff. It wasn’t his fault if Erzsebet assumed it was mental health related.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Erzsebet said, and then Stefan’s guilty conscious went into overdrive when she asked, “Is that why you were asking about Valentin?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stefan shook his head. “I was just wondering about him the other day. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.” Erzsebet bit her lip, and he realized why she was being skittish about it. “But you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to talk about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just feel so guilty!” she burst out, throwing her hands up. “You know his mom died sophomore year, and then I broke up with him because </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>couldn’t deal with it, and then he had that year-long breakdown, and, I don’t know, I just feel like I could’ve done something! And I knew about all that stuff with his brother -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, hold on!” Stefan said, grabbing her arm, which was threatening to knock something over with how much she was gesturing. The knowledge that Valentin hadn’t killed himself was a rock jammed in his throat. He wanted to tell Erzsebet, and spare her all the anguish, but he’d promised Valentin. “You can’t blame yourself for that stuff, Erzsi. That was four years ago!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess,” Erzsebet muttered, and then jumped. The woman who’d been staring at Stefan had just slammed the door on her way out, hard enough that the paintings on the wall rattled. She wasn’t looking at him, or anything else, for that matter. There was an enormous hat perched on her head, with a brim so wide it practically didn’t fit through the door. Stefan watched as she walked down the street, back ramrod straight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know her?” Erzsebet asked, obviously glad for the change in subject. Stefan shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think so.” He paused for a moment, then turned to Erzsebet. “Do you know her?” Erzsebet had the same tendency to dress like she’d walked out of a courtroom, probably because she was a courtroom reporter and that was her job. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was staring at you, asshole,” Erzsebet said. He stole a sip of her drink in retaliation. She tilted her head consideringly. “Like, really staring. I thought she was going to come over her and slap you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I noticed,” Stefan said. If he really thought about it, the woman’s face had seemed familiar. He’d heard once that every face you saw in your dreams was a combination of faces you’d seen before. The woman’s face felt like that, like he’d seen parts of her somewhere else before. Maybe he’d seen her in the ambulance, once? Stefan couldn’t really place her, though, and he’d been a bad friend for long enough, so instead of thinking about it more he said,” Hey, weren’t you supposed to get a promotion? You never told me about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erzsebet beamed, and launched into the story.</span>
</p><p>***</p><p>
  <span>Despite how tired he’d been that morning, Stefan couldn’t sleep when he got home. It was the weekend, and usually he spent the majority of those two days in bed, with only occasional breaks to eat and shower. That night, though, he couldn’t get comfortable, tossing and turning for nearly an hour before he got up to turn off the heating. It didn’t help. He felt watched like there were eyes glued to his back, even though all the curtains in his apartment were firmly shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Around one in the morning, Stefan finally decided that there was no way he’d be sleeping anytime soon. It was a little too cold to go sit on the balcony, so he lit up a cigarette in his bathroom to avoid setting off the smoke alarms. The fluorescents made him look washed out and sickly, and he turned away from his reflection to stare at the wall, listening to the cars racing by on the street below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was why Stefan heard the balcony door open. It was a tiny noise, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>snick</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the latch opening, but it made him freeze like it had been a gunshot. His heartbeat pounded in his chest. That latch was on the inside of the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quietly, Stefan dropped his cigarette in the sink and crept over to press his ear to the door. He’d never had someone break into this apartment before, but back when his family had lived in the city they’d had a few people get past their shitty locks. Fuck, what had they done then? Stefan’s dad had a shotgun, which usually worked. He did a frantic inventory of his house in his head. Stefan had kitchen knives, and he couldn’t even remember the last time those had been sharpened. He exhaled shakily and concentrated on listening. He couldn’t hear anything. He counted, one-two-three, and then swung the door open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a woman in the middle of his apartment. Stefan froze in the doorway, watching in horror as she turned around. He should move, should yell for help or run for a weapon, but his feet were frozen to the floor as her gaze locked on him. She was smiling, teeth bared, head tilted in predatory curiosity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Belatedly, he realized that it was the woman from the cafe. She looked different now, pantsuit traded in for a dramatic dress that looked like it had been lifted from the last century, feet bare upon the floor. There was something strange about her face, Stefan realized, but before he could even finish the thought she’d crossed the room and slammed him up against the doorframe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head hit the wood, and everything went fuzzy for a second. Then she bared her teeth - not her teeth, her fangs - and her eyes flashed red. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Another vampire</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heard you were hanging out with Lupei,” she hissed, voice ragged. “Heard you were helping him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stefan couldn’t hear her properly - it sounded like her voice was being muffled, like there was cotton in his ears. Distantly, he wondered if he had a concussion. “I-” he started. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, but it didn’t matter. She slammed him up against the wall again like a ragdoll.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t even start,” she said, tracing her thumb over his pulse point. Stefan tried not to breath. “I can smell him all over you. If you start getting annoying I might be tempted to do something bad. How about you just listen for now, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pressed a little harder against his throat. Stefan nodded dumbly, and she smiled. “Good. Now listen to me. If I </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> see you talking to Lupei again, I come back here and I drain you, okay? No helping him. And don’t even think about getting him to protect you, because I guarantee that we’re way, way stronger than him. You got that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stefan just kept staring at her. She frowned at him, mockingly, and let him go. The ground rushed up to meet him - he hadn’t even realized that she’d been holding most of his weight. Once the world stopped spinning, he looked up, only to find that she’d gone, leaving the balcony door open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a few minutes, he just laid there, shivering as the room filled with cold air. He’d just been attacked, in his own apartment. Valentin hadn’t mentioned that there were people after him. Then again, that definitely would’ve been a dealbreaker for Stefan. Did Valentin even know? What had he gotten caught up in? It hurt to breath, and Stefan cut off his racing thoughts to count the spaces between his inhales and exhales.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he could sit up again, he crossed over to the balcony doors and shut them tightly, drawing the curtains for good measure. The daylight had just started flooding in, and he sat with his back to the door to consider his options. The vampire lady had threatened to kill him if he spoke to Valentin, which was terrifying. Stefan had never been good about doing what he’d been told, though, so he checked all the doors and windows before going to call Valentin.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i have something to procrastinate on so here's a new chapter! i spent a lot of time doing practical research for this chapter (a.k.a. talking with toothpicks in my mouth to figure out how Valentin would sound with fangs) so please enjoy!</p><p>also i don't really have time to respond to comments but i hope you guys know that i read all of them and i really appreciate them!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Wait, I don’t get it,” Valentin said, pacing across the floor. “So you get threatened for talking to me, so you decide to call me about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stefan rubbed at the back of his head. The strange, drunken feeling had worn off as soon as the lady vampire had left, but she’d still hit him pretty hard, and the pain was a constant, dull reminder. “What did you expect me to do? It’s not like I know any other supernatural creatures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Stefan had called him, Valentin had rushed over in record speed, which had been nice. Stefan kind of liked the idea of a supernatural protector. What wasn’t nice was the way Valentin was staring at him, like he was some idiot kid who needed everything laid out in front of him. Stefan had checked several times, and he was pretty sure that he didn’t have a concussion. The concern was unnecessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t have called,” Valentin said, matter-of-factly. “I would’ve ignored everything about the supernatural and run far, far away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quit moping,” Stefan said, flopping backwards onto his bed. He didn’t have anywhere else to sit, since Valentin was wearing a groove in the floor in front of his couch. He closed his eyes. “Can you get me some ice, man?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard nothing for a moment, and then his fridge opened. He could hear the ice rattling around, but Valentin was deadly silent, right down to his footsteps. Was that a vampire thing?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bed dipped beside him, and Stefan felt the ice hit his chest. “Thanks,” he muttered, unwilling to open his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were both quiet for a moment, before Valentin said, “I wouldn’t have gotten you involved if I’d known that there were people after me.” Stefan opened his eyes. Valentin was staring at him with a painfully earnest look on his face. “Honestly, Stefan, I didn’t even think about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat back up. “I know, and it’s fine,” he said, surprised to find he actually meant it. Valentin always used to get the rest of them caught up in little things - lying about sneaking out, buying alcohol from strangers, breaking into abandoned buildings - but he never got them involved in the things that actually mattered. Stefan didn’t think he was different now. “Can’t change it anymore, right? Now we just have to figure it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valentin gave him a small smile. It looked weird, Stefan thought, before he realized that Valentin’s canines were longer than they would be on a regular human. He leaned in a little to look, and the doorbell rang.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valentin was on his feet before Stefan could even think about moving. “I’ve got it!” he said, making his way towards the door. Stefan dropped his face into his hands, rubbing at his eyes. It was probably Mrs. Fralke again, here to yell at him about making a ruckus in the middle of the day, or something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard the front door open, and then Valentin said, “Oh, shi-,” before he made a noise like he’d been hit. Stefan froze, visions of the vampire from before still fresh in his mind. Then, there was Erzsebet’s voice, going, “Jesus, </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, when the fuck did your face get so hard?” and “You motherfucker piece of shit asshole, I thought you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stefan froze. He could hear Valentin stuttering through excuses, but they both knew how bad he was at lying. Either they were going to have to come clean, or they were going to have to perform some sort of telepathy to come up with a cover story. He rounded the corner to find Erzsebet with her arms thrown around Valentin’s neck and Valentin rubbing her back with an expression hovering somewhere around discomfort. Stefan snuck around them to lock the door, before his neighbors came to investigate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he turned back around, Erzsebet was dusting herself off, and Valentin was standing awkwardly with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. Neither of them were looking at each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that I’m not happy to see you,” Erzsebet said, to the floor. “But could you please explain what the fuck is happening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stefan and Valentin exchanged looks. “Uh,” Valentin said, to a point on the wall behind Erzsebet. “I’m not dead? Or I don’t think I am…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I can see that,” Erzsebet said. Then, before Stefan had time to blink, she was backing him up against the wall with a finger in his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You knew, too, didn’t you?” she said, with a faint note of hysteria in her voice. “That’s why you were so shifty at the cafe! I come all the way over here to check on you and it turns out you’ve been hiding </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> this whole time and lying about it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stefan went cross-eyed trying to look at her. “Valentin told me not to say anything!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t blame it on me!” Valentin started, and Erzsebet turned around again to stare him down. He held her gaze for a second or two, before his shoulders dropped. “I have an excuse,” he said, quietly. “You might want to sit down first, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erzsebet scowled, but she stalked into the apartment and sat down on Stefan’s bed. Valentin looked like he was going to follow her, but Stefan grabbed his arm to keep him back for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you actually going to tell her about - about The Thing?” Stefan asked. He didn’t want to get Erzsebet involved - she already had enough on her plate; there was no reason for her to get caught up in this vampire business. But she worked with lawyers, for Christ’s sake. She could tell when people were lying, especially if those people were named Stefan and Valentin and she’d known them since childhood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valentin shrugged, looking dejected. He did that often. Stefan wondered if the vampire thing had made him more mopey, or if he’d always been like this. “I have to, I guess. Can’t really find another explanation for faking my own death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to,” Stefan started arguing, but Valentin was already walking away, shoulders squared like he was hoping for a fight. Dreading one, whatever. Stefan could never tell what was happening between Valentin and Erzsebet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crept in after Valentin and took a seat on the couch, facing Erzsebet. Valentin was standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed awkwardly. “Okay,” he said. “Erzsebet, um.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valentin looked towards Stefan for reassurance. Stefan shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’mavampire,” Valentin said, all in one breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was silence in the room. Stefan winced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Erzsebet said. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Valentin’s shoulders were hunched up around his ears. “I’m a vampire,” he said again. “Um. That whole suicide thing was a cover-up? I got bitten at the morgue, um, it was kind of fucked up, actua-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erzsebet stood up, suddenly. Valentin went silent. “You know what?” she said, calm as anything. “Fuck you. Is this funny for you, or something? Because all of us went to your goddamned funeral and watched your mom cry over your body, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>forgive me</span>
  </em>
  <span> if I’m not getting the joke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a joke!” Valentin said, throwing his hands up in the air. “Jesus, you think I would joke about this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, well, I don’t know, Valentin!” Erzsebet said. “It looks like that’s what you’re doing!”</span>
</p><p><span>“Why do you always assume the worst from me?” Valentin said. They were getting very close, and Erzsebet’s hands were balled into fists at her side. Stefan figured that </span><em><span>maybe</span></em><span> he should step in.</span><span><br/>
</span> <span>“Hello?” he said. They both turned to look at him - Valentin with his new magically-piercing gaze, and Erzsebet with enough rage in her eyes to rival it. “Valentin, maybe you should, you know, show her?”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Valentin said, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. He turned around to face Erzsebet. Then, in the blink of an eye, his eyes were red and he had fangs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room went silent again. Erzsebet took three steps backwards, sat down on Stefan’s bed, and put her head in her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m in hell,” she said, muffled. “Is this a dream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I show up in your dreams a lot?” Valentin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nightmares, more like,” Erzsebet muttered. She looked up, expression indiscernible. “Okay. What the fuck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twenty minutes later, Erzsebet had been caught up to speed. She’d apparently accepted that she wasn’t crazy a lot faster than Stefan had, and was asking a lot of questions that neither Stefan nor Valentin knew the answers too, like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who turned you? </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Are you going to drink my blood? That’s kind of fucked up</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d moved to the kitchen to think about that last question. Stefan had to admit that he was curious - it wasn’t every day that he got to meet a vampire. Valentin had sort of looked like he wanted to die when Stefan had asked, though, so he’d shut up about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erzsebet had no such qualms. “So you haven’t tried it at all?” she asked. Valentine shook his head. “Why not? I mean, you work in a morgue. There’s got to be plenty around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not drinking a dead person’s blood, Erzsebet, that’s gross!” Valentin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not? It would be like eating meat if you were human.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it wouldn’t be,” Valentin said. He leaned over the counter, rubbing at his eyes. “And I’m still human!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t sound terribly convinced. When he looked up, his eyes had gone red - in the human way - from how hard he’d been rubbing at them. Stefan was beginning to feel a bit bad for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should look at your fangs?” Stefan suggested in an attempt to change the subject. Valentin looked over at him. “Like, to see how they’re made. It might tell us what you’re supposed to use them for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess,” Valentin said, sulkily. The fangs appeared suddenly, and he opened his mouth for Stefan to look. “Look away, I gueth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Erzsebet leaned over the table to get a better view. Stefan peered at them for a second. If he was being completely honest, they looked like regular Halloween store fangs - pearly white, pointed at the end like a little saber-toothed tiger. Then he figured, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what the hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and stuck his hand out to touch. Valentin hadn’t ever seemed uncomfortable with personal space violations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They just seem like teeth,” Stefan said, running the tip of his finger over the front of one of them. “They’re kind of - ow!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stefan pressed his finger lightly to the end of one, and found that it was still razor sharp. It pricked his finger, and he flinched away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, before he knew it, his finger was all the way in Valentin’s mouth. Stefan felt Valentin’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>tongue</span>
  </em>
  <span> against his index finger first, and then he registered the position they were in. Valentin had pinned him against the counter, hips pressed against Stefan’s, one hand holding Stefan’s free hand against the counter and the other grasping onto Stefan’s wrist. His eyes were locked on Stefan’s wrist, on the veins there, and Stefan felt his cheeks heat at the pure hunger he saw in them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” he said. He watched Valentin tear his eyes away from Stefan’s wrist to focus on his face, slowly, torturously. “Can I have that back, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, it didn’t seem like Valentin had registered what he was saying. Stefan felt a little thrill of fear run through him. Then, just as suddenly as before, Stefan had his hand back, and Valentin was halfway across the room, looking horrified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, I am tho thorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to do that, I thwear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Stefan said, wiping his hand against his jeans. Valentin didn’t look convinced. Now that Valentin had come back to himself, Erzsebet was snickering next to him. He gave her a dirty look. “You alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Valentin said. The fangs were still out, and it didn’t look like Valentin wanted them to be. “Um. I think I might vant to try that vlood drinking thing.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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